


'cause i'm the right one (i'm the only one)

by pepperfield



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Touch Tone Telephone, Background Relationships, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, Minor Meddling, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperfield/pseuds/pepperfield
Summary: Hitoka has a lot of regulars at the cafe, but there's only one who makes her feel like she might really be somebody special.
Relationships: Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66
Collections: Valentine's Day Lockers 2020





	'cause i'm the right one (i'm the only one)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mozaikmage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozaikmage/gifts).



> MASHA this is for you because I love you. It is also pretty stupid!! I didn't want to bloat the tags but this fic also contains background oisuga/akaboku/kenhina and vaguely implied kurodai. Thanks for reading!!

It’s the first Monday of the month and Hitoka currently has three concerns.

1\. Osamu forgot to order more of that herbal tea that Washijou-san likes, but he _did_ have three 10 kilogram bags of rice sent to the cafe, so now her stockroom is half out of space.

2\. That reporter from the local newspaper is skulking around the circulation desk pretending to look at 50-yen sale books again while secretly listening for gossip, and she just knows that Suga is going to take him to war over it very soon.

3\. Kuroo-san ordered six espresso shots on ice today, instead of his usual four. He’s also wearing his best casual suit, a necktie for a belt, and has fashioned himself a pirate hat out of aluminum foil. Hitoka is afraid he’ll finally make good on his threats to bring his “top-secret project” to the library roof and will blow them all sky high.

She has at least four other concerns waiting on deck, but these are the most imminent of the batch, so she’s letting them simmer in her brainsoup first. Mondays are usually the most worry-heavy days of the week, and she doesn’t want to overdose on anxiety so soon in the month. But at least her coworker’s favorite customer has just arrived. That always brightens her day.

“Hello, Akaashi-san!” she says when he approaches her counter. “Anything to drink today?”

“Good morning, Yachi-san,” he replies with a smile as he scans today’s onigiri selection. “I think I’ll-”

“Hey! Yacchan, you didn’t tell me AkaAAAashi was here!” Bokuto yells as he comes out of the back with seven bags of coffee beans under his arms. Akaashi always watches him like he’s the second coming of Achilles, and today is no different.

“I’ll leave Bokuto-san to tell you about today’s specials, then,” she says, letting Bokuto exclaim at length to Akaashi about how Myaa-Sam ordered way too much rice for the fifth time this year. She heads to the back to start in on dishes instead. Even at eight in the morning the cafe isn’t that busy, and Bokuto can always call for her if he needs help.

Torono isn’t a one-stoplight town, but it certainly isn’t very large. There are a couple of other cafes around, with a bigger selection of drinks and snacks, so the people that frequent the library cafe are usually the people who have business at the library itself. As such, she’s memorized the general schedules and usual orders of all her regulars.

A glance at the clock tells her that it’s about time one of them came shuffling in.

She finishes rinsing out her empty iced coffee pitcher and dries her hands before going back out to start up an apple chai. As expected, Kenma slouches up with a sleepy greeting before abruptly spinning on his heel and slipping around the bar to hide by the milk station as Kuroo comes tearing back through from the library lobby. For best friends, they sure do spend a lot of time hiding from one another — Kuroo because he’s afraid Kenma will stop him from buying another fringe DVD set about alternate universes, and Kenma because he doesn’t want Kuroo to pry into his interest in asking the children’s room librarian about sports books. Hitoka does Kenma the service of pretending not to see him huddling behind a ficus as Kuroo slams another 1000 yen on the counter and asks for another six espresso shots.

“Kuroo-san, I don’t know if that’s advisable,” she says sedately, hoping it will trick Kuroo’s brain and bloodstream into slowing down with her. Beside her, Bokuto finishes exuberantly tossing Akaashi’s onigiri into a paper bag.

“Isn’t it?” Kuroo asks, wide-eyed and manic. He waves his notebook wildly in the air. She doesn’t know what’s written in there besides a ton of theories about merging timelines. “I don’t want my energy to flag before my breakthrough! I’m so close, Yacchan, I can feel it. And once I put it all together I’ll call into Sawamura’s show- he’s been waiting for the big news, y’know, and then everyone will finally understand what I’ve been striving to explain all these years- what they’ve been _covering up_ all this time!” A stray photograph of a cactus with an antenna sticking out the top flies out of his notes and flutters softly onto Hitoka’s food case.

“Still, Kuroo-san, don’t you think you could, um, space out your research over a few days? I’m sure Sawamura would understand. So much caffeine in such a short time- it’s just not a great idea? Because of, you know, your heart and everything.” Hitoka has only listened to _On the Air and Into the Night with Sawamura Daichi_ a few times, but he seems like the kind of radio host who would be at least a little distraught if a caller were to collapse in the middle of a broadcast.

Kuroo looks askance at her, and holds his notebook protectively over his chest. “My heart? Do you know something I don’t? Have they _done_ something to me? I should’ve _known_ \- the other day at the clinic, the nurse kept asking me about multivitamins- god, I’m such an idiot! Saboteurs at every turn! Of course they were never _vitamins_! Shit, don’t let your guard down, Yacchan; it might be too late for me, but you can still save yours-”

“Kuroo-san, there’s nothing wrong with your vitamins,” Akaashi interrupts, coming to insert himself between Kuroo and the counter, like a sleep-deprived human shield. “Please go eat a croissant and calm down.”

Kuroo’s cackle is incredulous. “Like I would ever trust any object with such a high butter index.”

Akaashi’s face always does its best not to reveal the staggering amount of shock that comes crashing through Akaashi’s body, but it’s sentences like these that Hitoka knows totally throw him. True to form, his eyebrows crunch together in an expression of confusion that wants to give way to contempt.

“Then I guess you should avoid all pastries until further notice. In any case, Yachi-san is afraid you’ll die, like any other human being who ingests a tablespoon of caffeine. Six shots should be more than enough for you today.”

“How did you know I had six shots earlier?” Kuroo demands, squinting at Akaashi and bringing one hand up to clutch at his aluminum hat. “What do you know? Who do you work for? No, seriously, do you have a job? You’re always here, skulking around, hovering by the bar…” He jabs a finger toward the espresso machine, where Bokuto is usually situated, and Hitoka’s breath catches as she prays Kuroo won’t announce Akaashi’s crush on her coworker out loud to the world. Luckily, he’s got a rather one-track mind. “Do you come here to _spy_ on me, Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s face decides that it can afford a little contempt today. “There’s nothing I’d rather do less, problem-customer-Kuroo-san.”

“It’s kinda hard _not_ to notice you, Kuroo,” Bokuto chimes in, leaning on the register. “And twelve shots is a pretty bad idea! Last time I drank that much coffee I repainted my whole apartment at midnight instead of sleeping. And then I found out the next day that it was actually Konoha’s apartment, whoops.”

“Kuro, just drink some water,” Kenma says, coming over to plow Kuroo out of the way and pay for his chai. “If you vibrate right out of your skin, how will you ever call into Sawamura-kun’s show? He’s been waiting patiently for a long time; he could probably wait another few days.”

“Kenma!” Kuroo exclaims as Kenma receives his change and beverage from Hitoka. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to the library today. I thought you had a stream scheduled? Was that a different timeline?”

“Nope, still this one. It isn’t until 6,” Kenma says, tugging Kuroo by the elbow away toward the lobby. As usual, some of the children stare as he walks by, which is the price of being internet famous, Hitoka supposes. “I came to see Shou…showings. I came to see when the library was gonna do its next documentary showing.”

“Oh, there’s going to be one next month. It’s about endangered dolphins. Did you know that recent research shows that extraterrestrials may have taken interest in the Indus River dolphins-”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll go see it. You can tell me more about it over in that direction.” Kenma successfully leads Kuroo away around the corner toward the A/V section, and Akaashi takes his leave as well when he sees that Hitoka and Bokuto have survived another day.

That bit of excitement ends just in time for the little mid-morning rush that always comes around the time that Osamu gets back from his break. They work through the line of parents with their children on the way to morning read aloud, the elderly patrons who like to come in for technology classes, and the teens here to study for exams.

Aone, who enjoys old horror movies and yuzu tea, usually comes in around 11 and marks the end of their pre-lunch crowd. Hitoka is rewarded with a photograph of the dog he’s been visiting at the shelter in the next town over. Another favorite regular, Fukunaga, arrives a little bit after her lunch break and orders his usual banana bread and small cappuccino. He quietly tells her three fake secrets about his coworkers and she tells him a bad joke about a frog in return. The day continues much like this until Concern #2 reappears in the forefront of her mind.

Oikawa Tooru — local reporter, public nuisance, and Suga’s long-standing nemesis — strides up for his weekly iced americano with hazelnut syrup and a splash of soy milk, but in his eyes is a deviously bright gleam that pierces Hitoka’s defensive wall like a shot of adrenaline. Something troublesome is about to occur.

“Yacchi! You look radiant as usual, my dear.”

“Um, thank you, Oikawa-san,” Hitoka says, used to deflecting the meaningless flirtations he directs at most women he runs into, especially the elderly. She knows it’s just a casual affectation of his; his true method of flirting is much, much more unfortunate. Osamu and Bokuto have started a betting pool about when they think Suga will finally snap and either throw a cart of books at him or drag him over the circulation desk to make out. Hitoka has staunchly refused to make a public bet, but she secretly thinks in about three weeks it’s going to be an atlas to the foot that ends in a dinner date.

“I was thinking that besides my usual today, I could also order a large of whatever it is that Refreshing-kun usually gets?” he says, smiling winningly at her. Bokuto and Osamu both freeze at these words, and then heartily continue working while very obviously listening in.

“Oh, Suga-san isn’t allowed to drink on the job,” Hitoka says apologetically, pointing at the laminated Do Not Serve sign on the wall next to her coffee brewer. On it are just two pictures: Suga and Hinata, both smiling at the viewer.

“But, it’s not- it’s just coffee?” Oikawa says, trying not to look confused.

“Pff. You think _you_ got what it takes to tame Suga hopped up on an iced triple upside down ginger honey oat latte?” Osamu drawls, looking Oikawa over and coming up unimpressed. “Last guy who tried ended up in the hospital. You really lookin’ to take your chances?”

Hitoka notices that Osamu chooses not to mention that the hospitalized man is his twin brother, and the only reason Atsumu broke his ankle was because a group of them decided to chug coffee right before sledding down the mountain of snow that had been piled up in the library parking lot. Osamu put his money on late December, during the stress of the holiday season, and Oikawa’s sudden boldness today is surely throwing a wrench in his prediction.

Oikawa’s handsome face goes through a complicated motion, before he says, haltingly, “What...what is a triple ginger...s...sideways honeysuckle latte?”

“Disgusting, s’what it is. Better just leave it at that.”

But Oikawa Tooru is nothing if not determined, so he just nods, and says, “Well, I guess I’ll try my luck when he’s off duty. Just the usual today, then.”

“That sounds good,” Hitoka says, and rings him through. While he’s waiting for Bokuto to finish making his drink, he stands by the food case, and almost gets bowled over by Hinata running in.

“Hey, Yachi-san! Do you think I could get an extra sandwich today? I’m gonna take my lunch with Kenma once he escapes from Kuroo-san’s whale lecture! Though at this rate I’ll probably finish another read aloud first! They’ve been talking about sea animals for like two hours. Oh, hi Oikawa-san!”

“Hi, Shouyou. Wait.” Oikawa frowns. “I thought he was on the Do Not Serve-”

“All set for you Hinata!” Bokuto bellows, handing Hinata’s already completed order over, which Hinata grabs before completing an impressive bounce and slide maneuver back out of the cafe.

Hitoka smiles at Oikawa as he squints at the sign. “Don’t worry, he only bought sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches never hurt anybody,” Bokuto agrees.

“Sandwiches never helped anybody either,” Osamu counters as he spruces up the onigiri trays.

“Shouyou didn’t even pay?” Oikawa says, looking desperately between the three of them and the dust left in Hinata’s wake.

“Oh, it’s okay, we know where he lives,” Hitoka reassures him, before taking the americano from Bokuto and handing it over. Oikawa receives his beverage and takes an unsteady sip, still staring balefully at the sign before returning his gaze to Suga’s desk, all the way across the lobby. It’s in moments like these, when his face grows thoughtful and still, that Hitoka remembers that under his charm and his bluster is a man who works overtime five out of seven days a week and puts out consistently solid articles each time. A man who would do anything to get his story, and maybe just about anything to get Suga’s attention.

Hitoka hides a smile behind her hands as she wipes down her counter; maybe it’s the romantic in her that finds an empathetic schadenfreude in seeing someone else pine away, even if that person almost broke the library’s self-checkout machine last year.

However, the joke is on her, because it’s only fourteen seconds later that Hitoka’s own downfall comes knocking.

Concern #4 has just walked through the door. Sunlight streams around her face, framing her dark hair and beautiful smile with a halo of light. Her stormcloud eyes meet Hitoka’s, and somehow she grows even more radiant, as if synthesizing the pure adoration Hitoka is beaming at her into energy. 

“Good afternoon, Hitoka-chan,” says the most wonderful woman in the world, and Hitoka almost combusts.

“Um, hello Shimizu-san! You look! Today! I-I mean, you look nice today! Like always! Everyday!” She shouts this last part, because her volume regulation has broken down again, as it so often does around stunning women.

Shimizu Kiyoko laughs, light and easy, the way that Hitoka miraculously always tricks her into doing, and Hitoka nervously joins in. Kiyoko’s eyes crinkle and behind her glasses her long lashes flutter against her cheeks for just the same amount of time it takes for the breath to leave Hitoka’s lungs. Hitoka doesn’t know what good deed she did in a previous life for the gods to grace her with this revelatory experience every week, but she’ll thank the universe for it until the end of her days. 

“You look lovely yourself too,” Kiyoko says, and Hitoka wants to _melt_.

“T-thank you, Shimizu-san! You’re too kind. Um, can I make a recommendation for today?”

“I would love that. I’ve been craving something bright and sweet recently.”

“Oh, how fitting, because you’re also bri...sorry! Sorry! That was weird!”

Hitoka hastily suggests an herbal iced tea, and slides over to the food case to fidget as Kiyoko picks out a snack. Even with only a few choices to debate, she still considers the options very carefully. This has become their routine ever since Kiyoko first walked into the cafe two years ago and upended Hitoka’s life. There’s always a moment of terrifying anticipation that manifests in butterflies in her bloodstream as she stands on her tiptoes with her hands clutching at her apron straps while Kiyoko sweeps a lock of hair behind her ear and quietly mumbles the labels to herself. The glass sits between them like a protective barrier, one that keeps Hitoka safe inside where she can pretend her yearning doesn’t project like a lighthouse over choppy waters. But today she’s already keyed up from this morning’s concerns, and she’s not sure she can hold back the tide of whatever mortifying thing her heart might ply her to do, so she glances around desperately to see if someone can rescue her from herself.

It’s only then that she notices that Osamu has vanished, Bokuto has wandered over to the far end of the bar, and Oikawa is seated at a table like a normal customer for once. She has no lifelines.

“Should I choose the butter cookies again? They were very good last time,” Kiyoko asks, looking up at Hitoka through her lashes, and Hitoka gives her a watery smile back. 

“That sounds like a great choice! They’re star shaped today since, um, the meteor shower is coming up, and I thought it would be cute…”

“They’re perfect! Exactly like shooting stars. I’ll take two.” She flashes another smile as she straightens and Hitoka starts fussing around inside the case. “You’re so talented, Hitoka-chan. Do you think you’ll enter the community art show this year? I’d love to see your work on display again.”

Hitoka, distracted by trying to pick the prettiest two cookies, answers absently, “Oh, I haven’t decided yet...I have a few pieces I’ve been working on — you know I’ve been going to the park lately, and there’s this tree I’ve done a few studies on- oh! I do have some watercolors that I could submit, but they’re not a very coherent set- oh god, sorry, I’m rambling! Your cookies! And Bokuto has your tea going!” Hitoka jerks upright and practically slams the bag of cookies into Kiyoko’s hand. “Sorry again! I’m sure you’re in a rush!”

“Don’t worry, I’m rarely in too much of a rush to talk to you,” Kiyoko says kindly. Their fingers almost brush as she takes the paper bag, and Hitoka feels the missed connection like the caress of the breeze against her bare knees or the electricity that saturates the air as the sky fades green in anticipation of thunder. It’s for the best that they didn’t actually touch.

“Me too!” Hitoka blurts back. “I mean, sometimes there is actually a rush here, but I- um, I’m always happy to serve! I mean- to see! You!”

Her face feels hotter than the steam wand mid-latte, and she barely manages to stop making embarrassing noises disguised as words. Oikawa must sense her floundering straight into hell, because he slides over to ask Hitoka for a cup of water before she can say anything else. Bokuto bounds over a second later to hand Kiyoko her tea, so now Hitoka has two bodyguards, who, unfortunately, cannot protect her from the last twenty seconds. If only Kuroo-san could find her a timeline where she doesn’t say something absurd each time she spends more than two minutes with Kiyoko.

“Ah, Kiyoko-chan, I see you’ve got some research to be doing today too,” Oikawa says, sparkling at Kiyoko like a faulty flashlight while she pays.

“Yes, I wanted to look up old papers to compare their basketball records to today, but I was told some may have been moved to the public library during a cleanout a few years ago,” she responds. “Speaking of, I should get to work. Good luck, Oikawa. It was a pleasure to see you again, Hitoka-chan. I’d love to know more about your projects if you ever have time.”

“Y-yes! Of course, the next time you’re in, I’ll let you know if I’ve decided.”

Kiyoko smiles at her one last time, and then strides away toward the circulation desk. Hitoka watches her leave, wondering if she would ever know how it would feel to walk alongside Kiyoko, or to interact with her for more than five minutes outside the safety of her bar.

“You’ve got it bad, eh, Yacchi?” Oikawa says sympathetically, pointing at her with the straw of his cup.

“I- I think I’m done for,” Hitoka finally responds, after she can no longer see Kiyoko in the lobby, or sense the slight citrus scent of the lotion she uses to heal her writing calluses. 

It isn’t even that Kiyoko is the kind of dreamspun beautiful that ordinary people like Hitoka in ordinary towns like Torono rarely get the chance to see, to speak to, to fall in love at first sight with. 

It’s that Kiyoko walks with poise, but runs with purpose, the old battle scars of her track and field days on proud display. It’s that she speaks sternly to Oikawa and Asahi-san from the downtown boutique when they're muttering senselessly about something pointless, but she’ll always greet children with a soft voice, because beneath her cool exterior is someone passionate and warm-hearted. She can smack a fly out of the air with a magazine, but she always has gentle hands when she pays Hitoka. She takes her job seriously and always researches more than she needs to get an article done. She dutifully relays to Hitoka the latest news from the art and design column even if she finds it impenetrable and obscure. She listens with rapt attention even when Hitoka is spouting nonsense about brushstrokes or microfoam or samurai, and she always laughs as if they’re sharing the joke, even if Hitoka is saying something ridiculous.

But most of all, she makes Hitoka feel like maybe she isn’t so ridiculous after all. Maybe Hitoka might actually be as funny and charming as Kiyoko thinks she is, or as brilliant and vivacious as Kiyoko makes her feel.

Maybe Kiyoko smiles at Hitoka like that because this is the timeline where their feelings might miraculously intersect.

“But Yacchan, you had a whole conversation with her and only stuttered twice today! That’s a great sign. Soon you’re gonna conquer the world!” Bokuto exclaims with characteristic excitement as he comes straight at her with a double high-five.

She receives it cleanly but still stumbles from the shock, and Osamu has to catch her by the shoulders and set her upright. She doesn’t even know when he emerged from presumably doing inventory in the back.

“Nice, Hitoka.”

“W-was it?” she asks, baffled, tilting backwards to meet his eyes upside-down.

“Well, you’re still alive, aren’t cha?”

“What’s this? You spoke to Shimizu today without fainting?” Kuroo asks, suddenly leaning against the counter. Hitoka has no idea when he reappeared. He grins, cat-like and teetering on the edge of insanity when she nods back, and jots something down in his ever present notebook. “Good, good. It’s all coming together now…”

“Don’t tell me Yacchi’s love life is part of your ‘grand vision,’ Kuro-chan,” says Oikawa.

“ _Everything_ is part of my great ultimate theory, Oika’a-san. Yacchan isn’t a lynchpin, but she can definitely become a key player in days to come if things unfold the way I think they will. Throw Shimizu into the mix, and the branches begin to converge…”

“Don’t know what that means, but good for you.”

“Don’t you people have books to pretend to read and librarians to bother?” Osamu asks, frowning at them as he releases Hitoka to go rinse the pitchers.

“When you’re right, you’re right, ‘Samu. I need to go ask Moniwa if he’ll let me use the microfiche again. Last month Sawamura was saying something about Halley’s Comet and dishsoap, and I need to- well, never mind, you’ll hear about it soon enough. Good luck with your endeavors, Yacchan. Hey,” and Kuroo crouches down to stare her straight in the eyes, “Remember, each decision makes a branching path. Don’t you want to be the Yachi who doesn’t have to live without ever knowing?” And without waiting for an answer, Kuroo slinks away.

“Classic Kuroo,” Bokuto says, shaking his head. “But I guess that’s just his way of supporting you.”

“You understood what he was sayin’?” Osamu asks flatly.

“Yeah, he was basically telling Yacchan to go for it, right? Y’know, like, live with no regrets?”

Hitoka thinks this advice over and instantly throws her hands up in surrender. “Oh, no. No no no, I couldn’t do that. T-that’s- that would be crazy! No way.”

“Do you actually feel that way, or is it just your knee-jerk reaction?” Kenma asks. Everyone else in the cafe startles, having completely missed how and when he snuck back in, or where the tuna onigiri in his hand came from, seeing as Hinata only bought sandwiches.

“I-it’s both? I think?” Hitoka stutters, and Kenma blinks at her while unwrapping his snack. 

“Are you sure? Did you really think about it?”

“I- well. Not thoroughly.” She frowns and places her hands on the counter as she tries playing through the scenario in her head. Could she gather the courage to confess? Would it be worth the potential heartbreak?

It isn’t about courage or even heartbreak, Hitoka decides, so much as the embarrassment she would feel about pushing her unwanted affections onto Kiyoko if her feelings were not returned. The thought of burdening Kiyoko with the weight of letting her down gently seems ugly and insurmountable.

“Hey hey, I see you thinking yourself into a pit! Your feelings are real and it’s okay to have them!” Bokuto says, banging his fist lightly against the espresso machine. “As long as you’re gracious no matter the outcome, you shouldn’t feel ashamed to confess!”

Hitoka is about to protest, but then she thinks about how Kiyoko is one of the strongest people she knows and how she doesn’t tolerate nonsense. She would turn Hitoka down kindly but firmly, and there’s a reassurance in that. 

“I suppose I could try and, um, a-ask her out for lunch or something. Someday. In the way far future.”

Bokuto cheers and a slow smile spreads across Kenma’s face. “You could. It might come sooner than you think. Remember, like Kuro always says, you never know when a meteor strike might swing by and ruin all your plans.”

Hitoka blanches, but before she can start babbling, Oikawa nods thoughtfully and wags his finger at her.

“Asteroids and shit aside, I think she was leaving an opening for you,” he mentions, now poking at the remaining ice in his cup with the straw. “When she said she wanted to know more about your projects? Kiyoko-chan never says stuff like that if she doesn’t mean it.”

“Yes, but that was just...she was just talking about the next time she came into the cafe-”

“Was she?” Kenma asks. “Or did you just fill out the dialogue options for her in your head and choose the safest one?”

Hitoka replays the end of that conversation in her head and shrinks when she realizes she’s the only one who brought up the cafe. “But she didn’t exactly specify, either. If- if she wanted to meet with me somewhere else, she would have just said so.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to make a move ‘cause she thinks it’d be inappropriate,” Osamu suggests. “Since you’re working whenever she sees you. She doesn’t wanna put you on the spot.”

“Haha, seems like Shimizu’s the only one here with any decorum!” Bokuto says with a chuckle. Kenma and Oikawa both glower a bit at him, but he continues on, undeterred. “Though I know Hinata doesn’t mind, and Suga would probably fight you no matter where he saw you, Oikawa. Anyway, that means you gotta decide if you want to ask her out, Yacchan. It’s all up to you.”

Up to her? But Hitoka doesn’t even have a plan in place. Her feelings were never going to come to fruition, so she’s never thought through what she would say if the chance ever came. Sure, she’s had fleeting fantasies of how it might go, but nothing concrete to work off of. A daydream doesn’t so easily transform into reality. 

Osamu sees her brain begin to fry, so he flicks a packet of sugar at her. It bounces off her arm and shocks her back to the present, where too many eyes are waiting on her. “Don’t let ‘em pressure you into anything you don’t wanna do,” Osamu says firmly. “But we’re on your side, whatever you choose.” 

The others agree, and as a handful of new customers trickle in, they disperse back to their own business. Hitoka falls back into the rhythm of her job: talking, stocking, steaming, cleaning. It leaves less time for her to dwell on Kiyoko, but not enough to dispel the thoughts from her mind completely. Not that anything in the world could; how could you ever forget someone like Shimizu Kiyoko?

Work distracts her enough to get her to the end of her shift. The cafe closes at four each day, even though the library is open until seven. After she and the boys finish cleaning and closing up shop, they both bid her good evening and good luck. She pretends to herself not to know what she might need luck for, even as she loiters around the circulation desk pretending to help Suga organize the free bookmarks made by the local schoolchildren. 

She should go home. It’s not like she even has a plan, nor is she absolutely certain that Kiyoko hasn’t left for the day. Kiyoko didn’t stop by to say goodbye like she normally does, but it’s possible she slipped away while Hitoka was mopping the floors. And even if she is still here, she’ll probably be in a hurry to hurry back to the office with her research, or to go home and rest her eyes after a long day of writing and reading, or ready to go to the market to buy groceries for tonight’s dinner.

She surely has an infinite number of plans that don’t involve Hitoka.

“Yacchan,” Suga says dryly the next time she fans the bookmarks out in rainbow order again, “I think I’m gonna have to take those from you before you get a papercut.”

“Ah! Sorry, Suga-san. I’m just killing time. If I go home now, I think I’ll just end up falling asleep on my couch instead of doing anything productive.”

He smiles kindly at her. “You’ve been working hard all day; who says you need to be productive during your time off? Though, you know...they say there’s nothing more productive than finally confessing your feelings.”

“N-no one has ever said that before, Suga-san!” Hitoka practically screeches.

“Haha, you caught me. Still, you’ve been hanging around here for a reason, and I think that reason’s about to walk back into the lobby.”

Sure enough, Kiyoko descends the stairs a few seconds later. Hitoka instinctively ducks down behind the desk to hide, and Suga scolds her with a soft chop to the head, muttering, “No, no, stand up! You didn’t spend all that time messing with bookmarks to run away now.”

“Maybe I did!”

“Not on my watch. C’mon, there’s a reason you waited here.” She peeks her head up long enough to make eye contact, and he grins at her. “So trust yourself, and at least go tell her good evening.”

Good evening. Hitoka can do that. She tells Suga as much, and he nods sagely. 

“Of course you can. We’re all rooting for you, Yacchan. God knows at least one of us should land themselves a proper date,” he sighs. She’s tempted to ask him more about the subject, but he gestures impatiently at her to go follow Kiyoko out the door. “Go, go! You’ve got this!”

Okay. Alright. Hitoka has got this. She’s just going to bid Kiyoko good night. Even she can’t mess that one up. 

Stumbling over her own feet, she finally straightens and follows after Kiyoko, almost skidding across the slippery tile of the lobby floor. 

“S-Shimizu-san!” she cries as she gives chase. Kiyoko turns, and her eyes widen in surprise as Hitoka almost knocks her to the ground.

“Hitoka-chan!” Kiyoko says, catching her by the arms, a shocked burst of laughter escaping from her as Hitoka’s hands fly up to brace herself on Kiyoko’s shoulders. “How unexpected. Usually you’ve gone home by now.”

“Oh, yes, but I was um- I wanted to tell you-” The words evaporate as Hitoka realizes the position they’re in, with Kiyoko holding her close and Hitoka clutching back like a cursed octopus. She quickly removes her hands, and Kiyoko gently follows suit before tilting her head toward the door as an invitation to continue walking. Hitoka feels herself turning pink and going a little faint as they walk side by side out the library doors. They make it all the way down the stone steps and onto the walking path before Kiyoko trails to a stop. Hitoka does the same, and then they’re standing alone together as the sun burns copper on the horizon, no other soul in sight. The wind rumples their skirts and causes Kiyoko’s hair to flutter around her face, and she’s so close and so alive that all the oxygen in the world wouldn’t be enough to help Hitoka catch her breath.

“It’s okay, you can take your time,” Kiyoko says, smiling again, patient and glowing even without the auburn backdrop of the sun lighting her.

All the time in the world might not be enough for Hitoka to say what she really wants to. She didn’t wake up this morning thinking she’d be ready to bare her heart to the person who’s been unwittingly carrying it for her over the last year. She doesn’t even know if she’ll ever truly be ready. But she has to say something, even if it’s just a simple good evening.

“Shimizu-san,” she begins, so far gone from her comfort zone that her voice has become steady again in the face of the unknown. “I just wanted to wish you a good evening.”

Kiyoko’s eyes are soft as starlight as she replies, “I hope you have a good evening too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There’s nothing Hitoka can do to respond to this but bow, and though Kiyoko looks like she wants to laugh, she does the same. And then she’s waving goodbye to Hitoka, and starting to walk away.

The concrete feels unstable under Hitoka’s feet, even though she knows the ground is perfectly still. Her hands are clenched in the hem of her shirt and her heart is beating so fast she could power a coffee grinder with her pulse alone. She knows, logically, that she isn’t missing out on a chance, and that if she can’t say the words today, there will always be another day to try. She can finally sit down and reorganize her feelings and thoughts into a coherent plan and carry out a proper confession another time.

Unless a meteor were to strike. And then she would never know. 

She doesn’t want to be the Hitoka left wondering what could have been.

She wants to be the Hitoka who was brave enough to find out.

“Shimizu-san!” 

Kiyoko turns, looking not quite startled, but pleased, perhaps. Like she too was waiting for something else, some reason to stop and turn back. “Hm? What is it, Hitoka-chan?”

Hitoka looks her straight in the eyes and summons up all the courage that she’s been storing up in the corners of her heart after years and years of practice, and says, “Would you like to go out to dinner with me one day? As a date?” It’s sheer force of will that keeps her voice from trembling and compels her to add those last few words, so that her question leaves no room for ambiguity.

For the slightest of seconds the earth holds stationary on its axis, Hitoka caught in Kiyoko’s gaze as all the bravery in her body dissipates in the wind. It isn’t too late for some flaming space debris to put her out of her misery, she thinks desperately, even as she lets this moment sink into her skin to be imprinted there forever: here on the knife’s edge of uncertainty, where her heart hasn’t yet been broken and she still has the chance to keep Kiyoko in her life as a love that could have been.

But the world stands still for no one, and if Hitoka were looking anywhere but Kiyoko, she might have noticed the first stars become visible in the sky at the same moment that Kiyoko’s muted shock blooms into heartfelt action.

“Yes,” she says as she advances forward in two quick steps as if tugged by an unseen rope. Her eyes widen like she’s surprised by the strength of her own voice, and she repeats herself more quietly but with equal fortitude. “Yes. I would like that very, very much.” 

“Wait, are- are you sure?” Hitoka asks numbly. She feels a curious warmth building in her chest even though she remains frozen in place, unable to move forward in this new reality for fear of bursting the bubble of this waking dream. 

“As sure as I’ve ever been,” Kiyoko says, taking another deliberate step forward, and another, slowly closing the distance between them. Hitoka can tell that although she doesn’t tremble or fidget the way Hitoka does, the stiffness of her back and the unyielding pressure of her gaze means that Kiyoko, too, is facing uncharted waters. They’re both new to this, Hitoka realizes at the same time that Kiyoko tells her, “I wish I had some way of showing you that nothing would make me happier.”

Like most everything she says, there’s only absolute truth in the statement.

“Just saying it is enough, Shimizu-san,” Hitoka squeaks out as Kiyoko finally stops half a meter away. She feels almost faint from the amount of blood that’s rushed to her face, and yet simultaneously she feels like she’s the strongest she’s ever been. She relies on that feeling to carry her through the rest of this conversation. “Are you free this Friday?”

“For you, I will be.”

“Then...it’s a date?”

“I hope so,” Kiyoko says, the imploring expression on her face giving way to light amusement, and Hitoka rubs at the nervous tears that spring up in her eyes when the skies continue to burn only with the dying light of sunset, no meteors in sight.

“Oh, thank goodness. I just- I like you, so, _so_ much, and I wasn’t sure if I was brave enough to ask- I’m just really happy right now,” she sniffles, feeling a bit silly. But Kiyoko doesn’t judge; she just reaches into her bag and hands Hitoka a pack of tissues.

“I’m fairly sure that I like you just as much,” Kiyoko admits. “And I’m thankful for your courage. At a certain point, I was really going to consider sending Oikawa to suss out if you were open to dating. He loves doing reconnaissance.” 

And this time, when Hitoka bursts into teary laughter, it’s Kiyoko who joins in with her.

\--

It’s the first Tuesday of the month and Hitoka currently has three concerns.

1\. The tongs broke, so now she has to use extra wax paper to grab all her pastries until the new tongs arrive.

2\. The sanitizing machine has been making weird rumbling noises all morning, even after Osamu kicked it. In fact, his kick might have made things worse because then Bokuto wanted to try kicking it too, and the strange sounds have since become exponentially clunkier.

3\. Every single person in Hitoka’s life has something to say about her upcoming date.

“No, but consider this,” Oikawa is saying, his hands spread wide as if he’s giving a pitch in front of a board meeting. “Dinner at the French place, then drinks at that little bar that opened up a few months ago, and then, if you’re feeling lucky-”

“Why are you even here today, Oika’a-san?” Kuroo sneers, bumping him out of the crowd of unruly men clustered around Hitoka’s cash register. “Go run back to your printing press and leave this to the professionals.”

“Professional? You’re in love with a radio host who doesn’t even know your real name!”

“Forget all their stupid ideas, Yacchan,” Bokuto says gravely. He’s scooping heaps and heaps of milk foam into a large cup for some questionable purpose. “Go for a scenic run! The couple that exercises together stays together.”

“A run?” Kenma looks more disgusted than the time he decided to try one of Bokuto’s mystery “smoothies.” “Who wants to get sweaty on their first date? Go see a movie or something. Maybe go to an arcade and play some crane games.”

“Oh, we did that once! It was fun,” Hinata says with a smile at Kenma, completely missing the way Kuroo swivels toward them with wide eyes as he chimes in with his own suggestion. “Shimizu-san is a really classy person, so maybe she’d like a classy restaurant? But also, she seems like she’d be okay with any place if you’re choosing it.”

“There’s that izakaya me and ‘Tsumu go to sometimes,” Osamu mentions. “It’s pretty casual, but the food is good.”

“Excellent idea, Osamu-kun,” Suga says with a wink. “Lots of big tables for large parties who might also coincidentally want to go out for drinks and fun on a Friday night! Right, guys?”

“Please do not spy on Yachi-san’s date, Suga-san,” Akaashi says, looking even more harried than usual.

Bokuto nods rapidly. “Yeah, what Akaashi said.”

“If you’re here, who the hell is manning the circulation desk?” Kuroo demands, and Suga waves away his concerns.

“Oh, don’t worry, Moniwa has it covered.” The anguished noise they hear coming from the lobby seconds later suggests that Moniwa does not, in fact, have it covered.

“Whoops, haha, I better bail him out,” Suga says, darting back toward his post. Like a magnet, Oikawa slinks off after him, already fixing his hair and thinking up his obnoxious comment du jour. 

The rest of the crowd continues their clamor until an actual paying customer enters the library. Of course, the fact that this customer is Kiyoko helps. With impressive grace and speed, all non-cafe-employees scatter like ninjas on the attack. Osamu magically finds some more dishes to take out back, and vanishes too. Bokuto grins broadly at the sight of Kiyoko, but then turns back to Hitoka with some concern. He’s noticed the way she’s been fluctuating between cloud nine and anxiety island all morning. “Want me to take the till?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Hitoka says, a helpless smile already settling on her lips as Kiyoko waves. “I- I’m gonna conquer the world, right?”

“The whole universe too,” Bokuto promises, before patting her on the shoulder and heading back over to the bar to make more foam.

Hitoka doesn’t think she needs a universe, or even the world. Kiyoko’s luminous smile is enough for her.

“Good afternoon, Hitoka-chan.”

“Hello, Kiyoko-san! Can I make a recommendation today?”

“Always.”


End file.
